Sleep
by ShinigamiDoll
Summary: It was so quiet, a whisper, less of a question and more of an acceptance. Then the eyes slid shut again and he couldn't begin to express the warmth that melted his heart. SinbadxJudal
1. Chapter 1

It hurt.

That's all he can think when he looks upon the manic grin across his face, at the remains of crocodile tears that hadn't quite been wiped from his eyes, at the slight flush to his skin that usual followed intense emotions.

It really hurt. More than he could imagine. Deeper than anything else. So far buried that it could never be dragged up again.

So much pain.

And he was laughing, like it was nothing. To him, it was nothing, nothing worth mentioning at all. That's just how he held himself, never letting others see his pain. Was that strength or pride?

Ja'far commented later to him that he didn't seem that angry over that petty act, but he could only shrug it off. He wasn't entirely sure yet of what he wanted to do about it.

Because he was going to do something about it, there was just too much pain there to not do anything.

He voiced none of this to Ja'far, did not need to. His right hand, his most trusted… his closest friend, Ja'far already knew, probably before he did himself, that he wasn't going to leave this alone.

Neither of them knew when he would act on it though.

He had propositioned Aladdin to be Sindria's Magi, or at least in a way… the kid was sharp. He honestly can't say he was surprised to be turned down, more or less, but he can say he was surprised at the bit of relief that ran through him. It didn't feel right. Not that Aladdin wouldn't have been perfect as Sindria's Magi, but…

No, he couldn't think like that, not when he had to think for a country.

He didn't really understand why though until that night. He knew that Judal could get into his country with little to no problem, Yamuraiha's barrier was amazing but nothing was imperfect. What did surprise him was that Judal would _want_ to return to his country. He hadn't seemed particularly fond of it last time, likely from the abundance of white rukh, and the presence of so many of his generals, and himself, and Aladdin…

In fact, he wasn't sure why Judal would ever want to step foot inside his country, there was literally no reason for him to take such a risk.

Yet there he was.

For a moment, all he could really do was stare at the figure. He leaned slightly over the balcony, eyeing the relaxed form in his garden below, asleep it seemed. He was never one to think too hard of his actions before taking them, and didn't see a reason to start now, and let himself jump over the side to get closer. Landing with silence that Ja'far would have been impressed with if it weren't for the reason he did it, the thought of his trusted general was wiped from his mind as he looked over to the figure only a few feet away.

Closer now, there was no doubt of who it was, Judal was curled up into a tight ball at the base of the largest tree in his garden. As he inched closer, his eyebrows knotted at the pained expression on the Oracle's face. Concern raised, he wondered for the well-being of the Magi, if maybe his curled form hid some kind of grievous injury. The closer he stepped, the more questions came to mind, only one dominating the others.

Why did he come here?

Finally, he was inches from the form, bent at the knee to be almost at eye level with the pale boy before him. He looked so… beaten in his sleep. Eyebrows drawn together, mouth twisted in a small frown that was almost a pout, his fingers clutched his own arms so tightly, as if insecure. Then deep red eyes began to flutter open, and his heart started racing a bit faster despite he being the one with the right to be here.

"_Sinbad."_

It was so quiet, a whisper, less of a question and more of an acceptance. Then the eyes slid shut again and he couldn't begin to express the warmth that melted his heart. It was like some subconscious part of Judal had trusted him in that moment, sleep dazed and barely cognitive, he recognized him and allowed himself to fall back into unconsciousness.

Again, he could not put his reasoning into words, as was something he was beginning to realize was happening a lot, but he scooped the young man up in his arms. Gently, silently, he carried him towards his own room. When he turned the last corner and saw Ja'far standing by his door, he didn't even blink. The former assassin, however, did. Several times at the form in his arms, before his eyes finally rose to meet his own. He opened the door for him before leaving. Whatever he saw there was enough to convince him it seemed, for he just sighed heavily, and nodded.

That was something he would think about tomorrow though, something that he could not address at the moment, something he was still trying to figure out himself now.

When he laid the young man out on his own bed though, and watched the way he curled into the sheets, his expression suddenly relaxing, a tenseness that seemed to melt off him bit by bit, he held no regret for what he decided.

He made himself comfortable in a chair across from the bed, unsure of whether or not to let himself drift off, ultimately unable to as his gaze would shift back and forth between the pale figure in his bed and out the window to the night sky over his country. His mind was racing, but also empty. Or maybe just repeating the same thing over and over again? The one emotion, one feeling, it was pounding in his heart and rushing through his veins, it drove his protective instinct high, his nerves to the edge.

That moment he looked down into the garden and saw Judal there… It kept repeating again and again in his mind, the rush of emotions he had felt. He hadn't thought about it as it was happening, but now his mind wouldn't let him _not_ think about it. He recognized those emotions, the warmth and dread that had spread through him. Judal had wanted to return to his country, wanted to return to his palace, wanted to return to him. Judal laid out in the cold unable to return to him, curled up on the hard ground unable to reach him, alone and in the dark unable to see him.

Since when did he care so much about this boy?

And his mind instantly brought that day back, the crocodile tears breaking from the corners of dead eyes, a thin smile being stretched over his pale expression, the refusal to admit pain… Was it strength or pride? Sinbad found he really wanted to know suddenly.

Not just that. But about this past that the boy had been talking about. About his feelings for the past. About his desires now. About the dungeons he raised. About his alliance with the Kou Empire. About his obsession with peaches. About his desire for power. About his fascination with Aladdin. About his hatred for Aladdin. About the dungeons he had conquered from him. About his childhood. About his need for war. About the black rukh. About… everything.

Face and body fully relaxed, he watched the morning sun slowly rise over his peaceful form. The fiery sun casting such a warm life over such a cold and dark person. A desire running through the king at that moment, nothing lewd like he would have thought at first, rather simple to be honest.

He wanted to see Judal in white.

The idea… captivated him, in all honesty.

The same person, the same hair, the same eyes, the same expression… but in pure white. For some reason, he felt that it reflected the Magi much better than the dark clothes he had on now…

He wanted to see him in the purest white cloths he could find, loose fitting, relaxed, showing just enough skin. Gold, earrings maybe, something dangly and shiny, and a long necklace. Nothing constricting, nothing… captive. And he wanted to make him a bed of pillows, in a place where the sun is always rising, and a bowl of peaches always just in reach. But most importantly, he wanted for him to never leave.

That's what he desired, but the nagging voice in the back of his head (that sounded vaguely like Ja'far) reminded him that this was very likely something the Magi would find much too boring.

Entranced with his thoughts, he almost missed the moment those red eyes began to flutter open again, followed by the softest groan. His heart nearly dropped into his stomach, a sense of mourning almost coming over him. He would leave now, wouldn't he? He had been discovered, and just like that day he would laugh it off as nothing and bury it and leave. As rare of an occurrence it is, he silently prayed, wishing for nothing else but for the young man to just fall back into a peaceful rest. Caring not to identify the reason behind this desire, or any of his desires involving the other man.

Red eyes shifting around the room, they eventually and finally landed on himself.

"_Sinbad."_

He was awake.


	2. Chapter 2

He's lost.

Judal had left that day. That hadn't been surprising, no matter how disappointing. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that it was probably for the best that he did. He didn't know what to say, what to do, if he should even say or do anything. Judal had been hurting, that much was obvious, he was not okay, and he sought refuge for one night in a place close to Sinbad. That meant something.

Sinbad was determined to find meaning in that at least.

Ja'far tried talking sense into him. This was Judal they were talking about after all. Judal is insane, since they met him, in the entire time they have known him, to this day, he is a sociopath, there is simply no denying it. The difference between now and then, at least to Sinbad, is that now he knows that Judal was sculpted into this twisted and dark person. He was corrupted, and more than anything else, Sinbad absolutely despised the idea of someone so young and helpless, someone with so much life in front of them, being destroyed so early on. In fact, he refused to believe it.

There was saving Judal, a hope that simply sounded insane to people. An insane idea for an insane man. Even if they could somehow restore some sliver of sanity to the Magi, there was still the matter of Al Thamen, as the organization was not likely to just hand their oracle over so kindly. He shrugged it off though, one step at a time, they would burn that bridge when they get over it. So he insisted. His guardians questioned the wisdom in this move, for their country, for themselves, for Sinbad himself. He still insisted. He reasoned with them that they all had their own dark times, but turned out to be good people deep down. Ja'far turned his way at the mention of that, their eyes meeting, Sinbad sometimes could still see the darkness residing in the very depths of his eyes. If that was the most he could do, he wanted to do that at the very least for Judal.

After much time, much reasoning, he got their agreement to be as peaceful as possible with the Magi, and really that was all he really could ask from them. The rest should be from him anyways. He had no plan, no idea what to say, no way to contact him without alerting Al Thamen and half the Kou Empire at least. He wasn't sure what he could do but wait, and hope that he would return.

That night he returned to the garden to a very similar scene as the first.

Judal laid curled up against the same tree, but wide awake this time. Sinbad didn't hide his approach, even if the Magi couldn't sense him anyways he wouldn't want to set the other on edge. Dealing with Judal was like dealing with a wild animal sometimes. He was unresponsive to his approach though, staring off into the darkness around his garden, neither spoke. He couldn't, a simple greeting wouldn't be enough, but all the words in the world could never say what he wanted. So he just stood there, in silence, and waited. Red eyes turned to meet his after some time, and he found himself leading the other through hallways and doors, the same path as last time, until they finally reached his room once more.

They slept together that night.

Not in the usual way that he sleeps with people, but rather they laid together on the bed and he held the smaller man that curled into his chest so softly. Almost immediately the young man was asleep, leaving Sinbad to his own thoughts as he gazed down at him again. Unsure of whether it would be okay to sleep as well, just like the other night he once again found his mind too busy for rest. Fingers went to work on black hair.

Threading through the long locks, he slowly, carefully, threaded each tie out, unraveling it to spread it out over the bed. Such long dark hair, he found it surprisingly soft, reasoning that the Magi likely brushed it often to keep it so nice. He must be proud of it for some reason. He would have to retie it all in the morning before leaving, if he was really so proud of its appearance. After a while, he pulled the last tie free from the dark strands, smiling softly and the content sigh breathed against his chest from the rhythmic way he ran his fingers through the other's hair.

Judal is cute.

In that childish way. Like he never really completely grew up, but rather he remained partly a child and received an adult body… Which very well could be the case with the way Al Thamen raised him, they likely never gave him a real childhood. But this was all something that Judal had tried to convince them that he had so easily accepted the other day. Tears welled up in his eyes, a desperate to deceive smile on his face, he tried to assert that he didn't care. There wasn't a single person in the world who could brush aside their childhood so easily. And Sinbad wasn't about to accept his.

Deep into the night, hours later, he still found his thoughts swirling as Judal laid peacefully in his arms. Without another thought about it, he leaned down to set a gently kiss to the top of his head, affectionate. He hoped in some way, any way, that Judal would somehow feel it and feel some comfort from it. Wishful thinking, maybe, but it was all he was capable of doing. He couldn't even summon words around the man.

Morning came too quickly.

One moment the night sky was darker than Judal's hair, and the next it was a red that couldn't compare to his eyes. As those eyes began to flutter open, dazed by sleep, Sinbad felt the tug at himself as he thought about the man leaving again. Again he would wait and wonder when he would come back, helpless to stop him for fear of driving him away completely. Judal would not be contained, no matter how strangely subdued he seemed during their private nights together, he could not allow himself to try and take advantage of it by keeping him here. He would not contain him.

He wanted to allow Judal as much freedom as he wanted, he wanted to show him that there was a lot more out there than what Al Thamen was allowing him to see. He wanted him to see beauty, life, love, happiness, and not the destruction and hate that Al Thamen had trained him to identify. He couldn't help the way he clutched to the pale body in his arms though, drawing it as close to himself as possible. Judal was awake now, arms snaking back around his midsection to lightly hold on as well, although seeming unsure, shivering lightly as he felt fingers running through his hair once again.

His country, his palace, his garden, his bed, it was all his. He was possessive, he realized that, it was a flaw he had identified easily in himself, but he had never bothered to try and fix as there had been no reason to. It lead him to a lot of greatness in his opinion. But the possessiveness he felt of the Magi was not natural. Judal was _not his_. He knew that logically. But he wanted him so bad, like a child wants his friend's toy. Except he didn't want Judal because Al Thamen had him, and he didn't want Judal because of a passing fancy. He wanted Judal because he was Judal and he saw no reason why he shouldn't already have him. Every night, in his arms, curled up against him, he wanted to hold him safe.

It was almost like Judal was a different person in these times, and he desperately hoped that this was who Judal really was, because if so he would have no second thoughts of going to the ends of the earth to protect him. But if this turned out to be another trick, another attempt to convince him to join Judal, or even an attempt on his life, then there was really no way he would be able to convince his guardians to trust him in his country in good faith. Judal finally pulled away slightly, enough to tilt his head up and peer up at the king. All he could see was the eyes of curiosity.

That type of curiosity one would see in the eyes of a five year old staring at something they've never seen. Working in that way you can tell they have no understanding of what they are seeing, or even of the situation, but they are desperately trying to figure it out for themselves. Judal is lost. He doesn't understand what he is doing, that is the simplest explanation he could figure out from that gaze, and whether it is true or not is something that he is not going to overthink, he decides.

So he slowly moves in to press his lips ever so softly against his.

First kisses are awkward by nature, in his opinion. But for once he doesn't feel uncomfortable with it. Instead, nearly sighing with relief mid-kiss when Judal doesn't immediately push him away, only hesitantly attempts to push back against his lips. Some small perverted part of his mind nearly bursts with the cute awkwardness the other presents, desperately hoping that was his first kiss just so that it would mean he really could potentially possess all of him, including his firsts. He slowly detaches himself from him though, resisting those urges, instead staring down at the man in his arms.

Judal is adorable. Face slightly flushed, he just stares back at him, and Sinbad can only wonder what he is seeing, or thinking, or feeling. He can't even start to understand any of that for himself. They lay there for the longest time, at one point Sinbad swears he could hear the door creak open just the tiniest bit and close again, not loud enough to alert anybody but enough to catch his attention. He only assumes it is Ja'far from how utterly silent it is, and also since he hasn't come bursting in to wake him. Leaving him there to hold the Magi and run his fingers through his hair, not thinking about anything.

Eventually Judal leaves though.

Finally putting the last tie in, Sinbad only watches him in the morning sunlight, the way the light reflects off his pale skin. And once again he is struck with the desire to see the other man in pure white. A white to rival his pure skin. He decides then that Judal has to come back, and when he does he will figure out a way to get him in white.

He doesn't question why.

Red eyes don't turn back to him as he approaches the window, his arms wrapping around the smaller figure to hold him one more time. He seems to regretfully break from his arms, gently letting the magic take him gracefully out the window.

He doesn't ask him to return.

He knows he will come back.

But first he leaves.


	3. Chapter 3

He was bloody.

It was part of his personality, but for some reason it was like that person was no longer there for Sinbad, that they had been replaced with someone much more different. Someone he liked a significant amount more.

It had been weeks since he'd seen Judal. His guardians didn't mention him, and didn't mention anything about the nights that he had been there. He never doubted for a moment that he wouldn't be seeing the Magi again. Something just told him that it was inevitable to see him again.

So he went ahead and gathered clothes. He still imagined that white would suit the Magi more… It would reflect a soft part that he couldn't express himself normally. Sinbad thought it was that side that made him seem more human, made him approachable. It felt like he was shopping for a lover though. Ja'far only gave him a single concerned look when he realized who the clothing was for, and didn't say anything more as his king proceeded to select at least a small chest full of beautiful white clothing.

But still the weeks stretched on, and Sinbad began to wonder. He didn't worry, he knew the Magi's independence was strong and didn't expect him to come back so quickly. When weeks turned into a month, and a month turned into another month, he found his confidence turned to anxiety. He didn't see him, hear him, hear _of _him… Just when it had been long enough for him to start to wonder if maybe he had imagined all of it, he found him in his room.

It had been a normal cool night, the calm sea breeze lazily blowing down the streets, it was almost cold for his country. It had been a restful day, nothing really eventful, just calm. He appreciated those days most for obvious reasons, despite that he had found himself distracted by the memory of a couple other fond nights. Many of his guardians had seemed to notice his distraction but didn't comment on it, Sinbad realized it was out of concern for the most part, they were showing him enough respect to not question him and let him sort it out on his own… Sometimes he did wonder if he was a good enough king to inspire such loyalty.

When he walked in his room that night though, thoughts still swimming, he only froze at the doorway. Ja'far only a few steps behind, having been in the middle of conversation, halted as well from surprise. Moving around him, he suddenly sucked in his breath as he looked in over his shoulder, reacting immediately and quickly sprinting away. Sinbad felt like his heart had died and left his body empty. Almost trembling, he took a single step forward, and then suddenly everything seemed to move much too fast. He was leaning over the frail, much too vulnerable, much too pale, broken form.

He was bloody.

There was so much red, too much, and not enough. The only red he wanted to see were his eyes, but they remained shut.

Suddenly Yamuraiha was there, Ja'far trailing her with a small pale of water and bandages. He felt himself being gently pushed to the side, his eyes unmoving from the form on his bed. He watched Yamuraiha use magic to heal the Magi, Ja'far gently cleaning as much blood as he could from his body to allow her to see wounds. He couldn't seem to look away, but he also couldn't seem to see anything. His eyes couldn't move from the man covered in blood.

As more of the blood was wiped away though, he began to realize that there weren't really that many wounds… a few scratches, one particular large open wound in his side, and he was a little battered… so that blood… wasn't all his. He woke up finally when Yamuraiha placed a hand on his shoulder, mumbling something about leaving them alone. It was then that he finally noticed bloody eyes open, staring back at him.

It made his heart clench, the listless gaze focused on him, like he wasn't really seeing him. Or maybe Judal was seeing him, and just thought nothing of him. That idea just made it hurt worse. He couldn't accept it, seeing the Magi in this condition so suddenly, out of nowhere, no explanation… He couldn't, but he had to. What else could he do? He couldn't keep Judal here, even if it meant his safety and comfort, he could see it in those tired eyes. Judal couldn't accept being contained, and the Kou leash he was already on was difficult enough as it was, he didn't need Sinbad trying to hold him down as well.

… His clothes were bloody.

Silently, he walked to the masterfully crafted trunk near the window. Drakon knew well his fondness for foreign treasures and selected it for him a while ago, it was only recently that Sinbad had found a use for it in containing all of the beautiful clothing he was purchasing for the Magi. Carefully, he selected a few garments, slipping into the washroom connected to his bedroom and laying them on the table inside. As expected a bath had already been readied for him, as per every night. Re-entering his bedroom, he nearly breathed a small sigh of relief as he saw Judal still lying there, watching him.

He walked closer to the bed and reached down to the man, moving to scoop the man up in his arms just like the other night. He tensed for a moment, surprised most likely, but Sinbad felt his heart melt as he relaxed in his arms. He had his trust, Judal trusted him. Only someone who knew the man would understand how much that really meant. He walked him to the bathroom, and first carefully laid him on the floor near the tub. His hand stopped mid-motion, fingers nearly brushing the bottom of the half shirt that Judal wore.

Hesitation was not something that he was familiar with. He was a think later and act first kind of guy. Follow your heart, follow your gut. Ride the wave. Judal was different, Judal had a different kind of wave, it was choppy and disorientating, and just plain hard to understand most of the time. Hesitation was just not something he was used to, it wasn't something he does. So maybe you could say he was frozen.

"_Sinbad."_

Nervous; that was a tone he had never heard from the other man before. He started moving his hand away, thinking that it may not be a good idea to try and bathe the other man, that maybe Judal wasn't ready for that kind of intimacy, or worse may mistake it for an insult, like he would think Sinbad thought he was weak. He was surprised as the hand met his and guided him back to the shirt. Carefully looking towards the Magi, the man hid away his expression, Sinbad only hesitated a moment more, then began to carefully strip him.

As each piece of clothing was dropped to the floor, Sinbad had to contain a shutter as they made a light wet sound. Drenched in blood, he didn't want to think about what his bed looked like, he would have to remake it before he could put Judal back in. He didn't want any more of this blood on him.

A tense naked form was left before him, a light pink blush seemed to have overtaken it. Being gentle he wrapped his arms around his shoulders and underneath his legs, lifting him and placing him in the tub. He tried to not think about how intimate it was to hold him naked, just like he also tried to not think about how the water turned red the instant Judal's hair touched it. Clean, he needed to clean all of this blood from him.

The silence stretched as he washed the man, Judal not once protesting, just letting Sinbad move him around and wash. He left once to walk back to his bedroom door, sighing in relief to see Ja'far patiently standing not far away, and requested extra water and for someone to change the bed.

When it came to his hair he took his time, gently messaging the soap into the long black locks, he set aside an entire basin of water just for this part. It was like the hair had absorbed the blood, like it had gained a red shine to it. It sent chills down his spine, and so he washed it, again and again, rinse and repeat, until it was pure black again. Finally finished, he removed the man from the bath and set him on a blanket on the floor, drying him with gentle hands, once again.

White clothing, Sinbad had said that the next time he saw him he would find a way to get him in white. He wished it was under better circumstances. He wished it was because he asked and Judal agreed, he wished it was because that was what Judal wanted. Instead he was dressing him in it because his normal clothes were drenched in blood. Still, they were beautiful.

There was nothing he could do about the awful gold rings around his neck and wrists, but the white robe wrapped around him fairly comfortably it seemed, the light reflecting back on him and making him appear so much younger, innocent, pure. For a moment, he just stared. Judal's gaze finally slowly turned back to him, a pink hue that had been present on his face since his clothes were removed turned slightly more red.

"_Sinbad."_

He couldn't tell if that was a warning, or the beginning of an unfinished sentence, not that it mattered. Sinbad had already leaned in to press his lips to the other man's, no hesitation this time. It really was better when he could read the wave. It was a short kiss, sweet and reassuring, Judal rested his head in the spot between his neck and chest as he carried him back to the bedroom. Sinbad was relieved to see the bed had been changed, the dressings a mixture of blue and green dyes, to resemble the sea he assumed. Carefully he laid the other man on the bed, curling up beside him.

Like the other night he found himself just lying there and holding him, not caring about time or any other people. Eventually he found himself running his fingers through long black hair once again, pressing his lips to the crown of the man's head absentmindedly. He wanted to just hold him forever, to never let him leave…

At the very least, he wanted to be able to fall asleep and wake up in the morning with him still in his arms.

Judal was clinging to him, he could feel the thin fingers on his chest, and while he understood almost nothing of what was going on through his head, he thought that maybe Judal didn't want to leave either. He was a possessive man though, so maybe it was all in his head, just trying to subconsciously make excuses as to why he should force him to stay. But after all this, with this kind of behavior, was it really that far-fetched to think that maybe Judal did want to stay? Judal was the one to sneak into _his_ country, _his _garden, _his _bedroom. All evidence pointed to him wanting to be here…

Could he keep him here? That's all he wanted to know.

The Kou Empire wouldn't just leave him be, neither would Al Thamen. But even still…

One night. That was the most it would seem he could get from them man at any time, a single night. So he held him tighter, feeling the relaxed form in his arms press against him, he willed himself to sleep that night, to fall into unconsciousness.

He didn't want to see him leave again.

He didn't want to feel him leave his arms.

He didn't want to let him go.

As the sun rose, Judal peered up at the idiot king that held him each night, seeing his resting face with uncharacteristically gentle eyes.

Without the heavy gaze of the king on him, the inevitable sadness that both knew would come with morning usually held with them, in its absence left an option Judal knew of but hadn't the courage to take before.

And so bloody eyes fell into sleep.


End file.
